Flashback – The Historical Record – Closed
Oct 6, 2012 22:31:14 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 6, 2012 22:31:14 GMT -5
Orion Pax was, as he tended to be for hours at a time, oblivious to the world… at least in the conventional sense. If someone had approached him from behind, he would have gone on unawares, his optics fixed on the glowing holo display projected up over his workstation. The luminance of the screens lit the room and bleached the color from his frame where he faced it, casting his long shadow up the floor to the enterance behind him. The circular platform on which the workstation was hooked up could, if he wanted, be moved up three levels so the data screens could be projected in large against the massive circular walls, but he liked to keep his work nearer to him just now.
Some of what he was looking at was sensitive.
Orion had one hard-line jack directly into the data console he stood at, a half-moon touch-screen interface the glowed with blue Iaconian glyphs and sigils, flashing individually as Orion’s fingers moved across the grid. There were two dozen holo-displays currently up, three of them pure data cascades, encrypting software that he was in the middle of converting. Six screens were video-feed he was receiving via data-tower bounce, uploading directly from field archivists in Vos, Kaon, and Tarn. Four screens were media streams – Primacy approved puppet theatre. Five screens were Comm Grid feeds, clearly downloading to both the archivist’s neo-cortex and the Iacon Hall mainframe. Seven more appeared to stock footage and public-access police reports.
The last two appeared to be personal correspondence and an instant messaging system, though he’d clearly forgotten both. There was time when he might have used it to contact his coworkers in other sections of the Halls, but they had all gone since government funding was cut. Now the other work stations had been locked and only a few still operated. He used to mind. He didn’t so much now.
Some of what he was looking at was sensitive.
Orion had one hard-line jack directly into the data console he stood at, a half-moon touch-screen interface the glowed with blue Iaconian glyphs and sigils, flashing individually as Orion’s fingers moved across the grid. There were two dozen holo-displays currently up, three of them pure data cascades, encrypting software that he was in the middle of converting. Six screens were video-feed he was receiving via data-tower bounce, uploading directly from field archivists in Vos, Kaon, and Tarn. Four screens were media streams – Primacy approved puppet theatre. Five screens were Comm Grid feeds, clearly downloading to both the archivist’s neo-cortex and the Iacon Hall mainframe. Seven more appeared to stock footage and public-access police reports.
The last two appeared to be personal correspondence and an instant messaging system, though he’d clearly forgotten both. There was time when he might have used it to contact his coworkers in other sections of the Halls, but they had all gone since government funding was cut. Now the other work stations had been locked and only a few still operated. He used to mind. He didn’t so much now.